


Follow Through

by HapaxLegomenon, indevan, Miyukitty



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sport Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2016, Collaboration, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapaxLegomenon/pseuds/HapaxLegomenon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: A study in dealing with change, distance, and what it means to be a good captain.Or; "You know, like, nya."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fanwork was produced for the Sports Anime Shipping Olympics 2016 Main Round 1 with the theme Duality, with a 4000 word/5 image constraint. The fic was co-written by [indevan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan) and [HapaxLegomenon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HapaxLegomenon), and artworks were done by [Miyukitty](http://miyukitty.deviantart.com/) [(Ao3 link)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/miyukitty) and [Ning](https://www.facebook.com/ningdrawsthings/). Special thanks to teammates Doxy, Eth, Indi, Miyu, and Alex for edits!

“We’ve got a good team,” Kuroo muses one evening after practice, when they’re cuddled up on Kenma’s bed. Kenma's tucked against Kuroo’s stomach with Kuroo’s arms around his middle and chin over his shoulder, and an old favourite plugged into his PSP. He nods, letting out a murmur of contentment, eyes still trained on his virtual battlefield. Kuroo gives Kenma a tighter squeeze.

“You’re gonna have to take care of them when I’m gone.” 

Kenma's fingers go still, and his character dies a pixelated death.

Winter has been giving way to spring. Kenma feels it in the slight shift in temperature, from too-cold to almost-warm, and sees it in the mornings, when Kuroo waits for him in the faint light of sunrise rather than the black of pre-dawn darkness. 

Kenma hates being cold, and he hates being hot; spring is usually his favourite season, but this year, he’s dreading it. He’s buried himself in video games and Kuroo’s gigantic hoodies and texting with Hinata. Even in extra volleyball practices (to Lev’s delight), because Kenma has no intention of playing volleyball after high school. 

This might be his last chance to play with Kuroo.

*

Kenma thinks of time like a road. A big highway heading out from Tokyo to the coast, flattening out and hitting the open sea. His head feels crowded and open at once.

They'll be separated for at least a year before Kenma goes to university, and even that’s only if Kenma decides to follow Kuroo to Kyoto. Which sounds like a distant goal at best, outright dumb at worst. He doesn’t want to make his life choices based on Kuroo's decisions. 

A year is a long time. In junior high, it was different. He was confident in the knowledge that he’d join Kuroo in high school soon, and Kuroo still lived nearby, still spent time with him. 

He hears Kuroo giving his retirement speech, but he feels detached. Kuroo puts his arm around him, draws him up to the front, and Kenma doesn’t react. 

“Your new captain!”

Kenma stares at everyone’s faces, not registering who they belong to. It’s a sea of indistinct blotches in black shirts and red shorts. He struggles to breathe, concentrating instead on the weight of Kuroo’s arm on his shoulder. The smell of antiperspirant and hair wax emanates off of him in a comforting cloud. He thinks about how Kuroo uses the wax to try and smooth his hair down but it never works. It’s a proud and defiant rooster comb no matter what he does. 

Kenma thinks about Kuroo's cursing as he tugs on his ridiculous mop, and his braying, donkey-like laugh when he gives up on it. He thinks about running his fingers through Kuroo's hair when they cuddle, tugging against it when they kiss. About how Kuroo's lips feel pressed against his, how he tastes like chocolate and spearmint gum. He doesn’t think about how Kuroo is going off to university and how Kenma... Kenma…

Kenma will be the new captain.

He sees Coach Nekomata eyeing him curiously. “Let him be for now,” he says.

It occurs to him that the others are waiting for him to speak while he’s been standing there chewing his chapped lips. He steps next to Kuroo, savours the closeness, and then separates. 

He looks at the team -- his team. Inuoka is cheering and jumping up and down and Lev catches him around the middle before lifting him up in the air. Yamamoto grins, giving him a thumbs up. 

It’s nice. He chances a small smile and swallows against a dry throat.

“Thank you,” he says and bows a little. He sees the coach smile.

Kuroo is a comforting presence next to him. He thinks back to their conversation, to Kuroo telling him “it has to be you”, fingers fitting in the spaces between Kenma's.

It has to be you.

They aren’t holding hands, now.

The pressure, thick and heavy, begins to seep in. 

*

It's been a month since Kuroo left and three weeks into the new school year. Kenma hates video calls, but he hates the distance more. 

So when Kuroo texts him a simple, _hey, miss you. Skype tonight?_ , Kenma immediately boots up his laptop and calls. 

Kuroo answers after the first blip of a ring and grins into the webcam. He looks awful, Kenma notices, and he leans closer. There are dark, heavy circles under Kuroo’s eyes and his hair is ridiculous, dishevelled and sticking up everywhere, and clumpy from being greasy and uncombed. But he smiles when he sees Kenma, and his shoulders slump in relief, and Kenma has to bite back hard against his own worries and complaints. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Kuroo look so worn down.

“Kuro,” he says, a little unsure.

Kuroo sighs and his eyes go glassy. “Hey, Kenma. How’s it goin’?” Kenma nods wordlessly and frowns. Kuroo’s lips twitch, and he tries to run a hand through his hair, grimaces when it gets caught in the tangles. “Sorry. I, uh. Rough week.” He laughs, and it’s hollow and forced and Kenma hates it. “Needed to see you.”

Kenma has no idea what to do. He’s not good with words, and Kuroo has always taken more comfort in contact, anyway. For their whole lives, Kuroo has dealt with his particularly bad days by wrapping an arm around Kenma’s shoulders, or pulling him into his lap while he plays a game, or, more recently, with hungry, desperate kissing, hands firm on Kenma’s face while their bodies curl together like puzzle pieces. 

The distance is stifling. Finally, he says, “Tell me.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo says again, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m okay. It’s just. It’s a lot, you know?” And then he snorts, and mutters, “Or, well, you don’t, which is kinda the problem.”

Kenma thinks that he might know, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say, so he waits, hoping Kuroo will take the lead and talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him. But after a few quiet minutes, Kuroo squares his shoulders, forces a smile that’s almost genuine, and says, in a deliberately cheerful voice, “Well, anyway, you’re probably busy, and I have practice soon, so I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll text you later and tell you about it, though. Love you, miss you, wanna kiss you and all that.”

Kenma stares at the blank screen for a long time after Kuroo hangs up. He feels frustrated, and anxious, and more alone than ever.

*

[Kenma]  
[10:48 p.m.]  
how was practice?

[Kuroo]  
[10:49 p.m.]  
eeeeeeeeeh. not the same. 

[Kuroo]  
[10:49 p.m.]  
you? how’s the team?

[Kuroo]  
[1:08 a.m.]  
kenma? you asleep? that's early for you.

[Kuroo]  
[3:03 a.m.]  
kenma?

*

Lev and Inuoka have apparently entered into a competition to see who can be the most obnoxious. They’re calling for spike after spike from the new first-year setter, slamming them past Yamamoto and Fukunaga and making Shibayama dive for the receives. Yamamoto’s loud laugh when he stops a ball is equally as grating as Lev’s whiny complaints. 

Even from across the gym, Kenma can practically hear Fukunaga’s teeth grinding, and sees from the twitching of his fingers how much he wants to spike. His heart isn’t in the blocking. The first-year is gamely trying to keep up, but he’s clearly exhausted and too intimidated to say anything. Shibayama sounds less and less confident every time he says “I’ll get the next one!” when a ball smacks down beyond his reach. Several of the other first-years have given up entirely, and are conferring with heads bowed in one corner of the gym.

This wasn’t quite what Kenma had expected when he set them all to practice their blocks and receives.

Kenma has a headache. He’d been up most of the night, thinking. Worrying about Kuroo, who’s been increasingly frazzled. Worrying about his own team, who aren’t meshing as well as they did when Kuroo was captain, when they had a captain who knew what to say and how to inspire. Kuroo is struggling and his team is struggling and Kenma needs to do something about all of it, but he doesn’t know what. 

The balls hitting the floor and the squeaking of shoes aren’t helping. He hates the fact that he’s at practice right now, when all he wants to do is be at home, curled up on his couch with the new Fire Emblem in his hands.

Mostly, he just wants to be with Kuroo.

A loud excited voice rings out from behind him, and Lev bounds over, still bright-eyed and eager. He grins. “Captain, what are we working on next?”

Something snaps inside him.

“I don’t _know_."

Kenma feels everyone’s eyes on him. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up and he reflexively ducks down, tucking his chin against his chest and hunching his shoulders. His hair swings forward and narrows his range of vision until he only sees Lev, and Shibayama and Fukunaga and Coach Nekomata behind him, but he can still feel the stares.

It feels like judgement. Like they’re all silently saying, you’re not good enough, do better, why aren’t you more like Kuroo.

“Kenma…” Yamamoto says, from somewhere to Kenma’s left, and Kenma quietly panics.

He’s not good at this. He was never meant to do this. He can’t do this.

Kuroo would have said something. He would have laughed it off, made a joke, clapped Kenma on the back before getting back to work. Kuroo would have gotten the team and the situation under control -- sharp and ready like an alley cat. But Kuroo isn't there.

Without Kuroo there to pick him up, take control, and kick people into gear, there’s nobody to stop Kenma when he turns and walks out of the gym.

*

Hinata had once said that when he feels stressed, or nervous, or excited, he goes for a run, and that helps. So Kenma runs. He runs until he thinks his legs are going to fall off, and he finally flops onto the staircase near his and Kuroo’s homes, the one that overlooks the river.

He wraps his arms around his knees and watches the water. He’s still stressed and nervous, but now he also feels sweaty and tired and disgusting. He needs a shower. And he needs to go back to the club room, because his house keys and his cell phone are still there, tucked safely away in his gym bag. He doesn't move.

Kenma hears sneakered footsteps behind him, and someone says, “Hey,” and for one wild second he thinks it's Kuroo.

Yamamoto sits on the step beside him, and he spreads his long legs and leans back on his elbows. There’s enough space for another person between them. Kenma watches him through the corners of his eyes, but Yamamoto just stares at the river. The colours from the setting sun reflect and break in the ripples.

“Nice spot,” Yamamoto comments at length, and Kenma twitches. And then Yamamoto sighs, and turns his head to meet Kenma’s eyes. “Nobody expects you to be Kuroo, you know.”

Kenma sucks in a startled breath and looks away.

“Really,” Yamamoto insists. “I mean, you’re kinda different.” He laughs, obviously hoping to draw Kenma into laughing with him, but it doesn't work. Kenma frowns, and his friend's laughter drops off. Kenma can hear Yamamoto shifting uncomfortably. “Look,” he says finally, “we’re friends, right? And I’m your vice captain.” The pride in that position is evident in Yamamoto’s voice. Kenma wishes viciously that he could feel the same way.

“It’s my job to help you lead the team,” Yamamoto continues, “as your vice. And as your friend, I -- well. I _want_ to help, Kenma. All you gotta do is ask.”  
  
“Tora.”

“Yeah?”

“I miss him.”

Another sigh. “I know.”

*

[5 missed call(s): Kuroo]

[Kuroo]  
[5:17 p.m.]  
what’s going on? yamamoto just texted me. are you ok?

[Kuroo]  
[5:19 p.m.]  
kenma answer your phone

[Kuroo]  
[5:35 p.m.]  
kenma

[Kenma]  
[9:58 p.m.]  
im fine

[3 missed call(s): Kuroo]

*

Kuroo visits and Kenma can’t face seeing him. He doesn’t want to see his disappointment, doesn’t want to hear his questions about the missed calls and unanswered texts. Kenma wants the world to go away -- he wants _Kuroo_ to go away and it’s the first time he’s ever thought that. It isn’t just Kuroo. It’s his shadow, his legacy. He’s not Kuroo. He’s not outgoing, commanding, or half as sharp.

The door swings open, and Kenma doesn’t look up. There's only one person it could be, and the thought of facing him makes him feel even worse.

“You winning?”

Kuroo is behind him but not too close. Kenma hears the tension in his voice and knows he’s upset about the radio silence. He smells Kuroo, though, close as he is, and he smells different. He’s changed his deodorant, and there’s something sort of chemical clinging to him -- probably from class. Kenma almost drops his game, face flushed and hands sweaty. Kuroo is different now. Kuroo’s playing volleyball in university and studying in laboratories and Kenma can’t even maintain the team he’s left behind.

“No.”

He turns. Kuroo is there. He's carved out in shadow, thinner than when he left. They stare at each other for a moment and the air between them is charged. It isn’t tension but it isn’t empty either, and Kenma can’t put a word to it. 

Kuroo steps towards Kenma, and Kenma can see his face in the dim light. He seems tired. There are blue circles under his eyes. His shoulders drop a centimeter, and his voice is weary as he says, “We going to talk about this?”

Kenma puts his console down, meeting Kuroo's eyes with a soft sigh. A suffocating blanket of guilt washes over him. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts.”

“Or my calls.”

The 8-bit music in the distance contrasts harshly with the sentiment in the room. “Or your calls.” He shifts uncomfortably. "I didn't want you to worry." 

_I didn't want you to think I couldn't do it without you._

Kuroo smiles and it’s a ghost of his usual wicked grin. "Apology accepted. Just... Please don't do that again." He swings himself onto the table near Kenma, leaning in closer to him. “Sorry for not being more communicative, too. Class has been rough. Feels like the professor's talking a lot but I'm not learning anything, and I feel even dumber when I try to talk about it."

Kenma nods, listening as Kuroo continues to speak. "Shame I'm no longer around for you to read my mind... And vice versa." He rubs his temples. "Hey, Kenma. You can lean on me, y'know? Asking for help doesn't make you weaker." 

Kenma's gaze trails onto the floor. 

“You cast a big shadow,” he says quietly.

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” He shakes his head, his expression serious. “Kenma, I didn’t pick you because I wanted you to be me.”

He sits down on the bed, close enough for their shoulders to brush as Kuroo folds his long legs underneath himself. Kenma feels that same flush of tension again.

“Then why?”

Kuroo looks at Kenma’s discarded game, still playing music on an endless loop, and says, “Because you’re _not_ me.”

“Kuro."

“Fine, fine. Okay -- I picked you because you see what others can’t. You know what they need and you can guide the team the best. And Yamamoto… look, Yamamoto is there to pump up the others.” Kuroo bumps him with his shoulder, and Kenma nudges back. “If you want him to call plays and organize practices, that’s fine. I just know you’ll do the best job, okay? You’ll rise to the occasion, and then hit it out of the park.”

The edges of Kenma's mouth twitch despite himself. "Wrong sport." 

Kuro leans in, placing a hand on Kenma's chest. Kenma's pulse races as Kuroo feels his heartbeat. 

“You’ve got this, Kenma. You have more heart than the rest of us combined.”

They remain there in silence, savouring each other's touch. Kenma is the first to break contact; he boots up his game again without a word. Kuroo edges closer, watching him play with the softest, sweetest smile. 

*

[Kuroo]  
[3:15 p.m.]  
Skype tonight?

[Kenma]  
[5:03 p.m.]  
yeah. ill call you after practice

[Kuroo]  
[5:06 p.m.]  
nice. <3

[Kenma]  
[5:06 p.m.]  
<3

*

“Hey, Kenma, can I lead the stretches today?” Lev asks, eager as always, and Kenma nods even as some of the first years groan. 

Lev’s idea of what constitutes a good warm-up is absolutely abominable. Kuroo would approve. 

Kenma approves on the grounds that if his team can survive a Lev-lead warm-up, they can survive anything. He ties his hair back and joins the stretching.

A few months have passed since that fateful chat. The fall Inter-High is fast approaching, and their team is feeling good. The new first-years are flourishing under a combination of Yamamoto’s rambunctious tutorials and Kenma’s quiet critiques. Their old core, the second and third-years, have come together like a well-oiled machine. Lev and Shibayama are a formidable duo and Fukunaga’s precision is frightening. 

Learning to tap into everyone’s strength and lean on them has made Kenma more comfortable as a captain. It’s not how Kuroo would have done it, but that’s okay. 

It's how _he_ did it, and that's why it works.

*

[Kenma]  
[6:06 p.m.]  
lev managed to spike every ball I set and receive every one tora spiked. its a miracle.

[Kuroo]  
[6:06 p.m.]  
omg

[Kuroo]  
[6:06 p.m.]  
all thanks to his new and improved, wonderful, sexy af captain? 

[Kenma]  
[6:07 p.m.]  
k 

[Kuroo]  
[6:07 p.m.]  
ouch. savage. i lavish you with praise, and that's all you have to say?

[Kenma]  
[6:07 p.m.]  
hah 

[Kenma]  
[6:07 p.m.]  
levs very proud. im exhausted. how was class?

[Kuroo]  
[6:07 p.m.]  
class was good actually 

[Kenma]  
[6:07 p.m.]  
another miracle

[Kuroo]  
[6:08 p.m.]  
ayyyyyyyy

[Kenma]  
[6:08 p.m.]  
wow. remind me why i love you

[Kuroo]  
[6:08 p.m.]  
[1 file(s) attached]

[Kenma]  
[6:08 p.m.]  
how do you feel about being single

[Kuroo]  
[6:10 p.m.]  
aww come on. you love me!

[Kenma]  
[6:11 p.m.]  
somehow i do

*

Kuroo and Bokuto come down from university together to watch their old high schools play a practice match. They’re easily the loudest voices in the gym, even before they start trying to out-do each other with their cheering. While the knowledge that Kuroo is _so close_ is distracting, it’s also incredibly invigorating. Kenma is confident.

Before the game starts, the team gathers around and watches Kenma expectantly. He meets their eyes, and resists the urge to look at their shoes instead.

“Fukurodani is strong,” he says, “and the core of their strength is in their setter and captain. He’s smart. Don’t be predictable.” Here, he flicks his eyes to Lev, who squawks. Inuoka stifles a giggle behind his hand. “Avoid sending balls to the libero --" he pauses, hearing Kuroo snicker at the back of his head -- "Don't spike to the libero and the middle blocker. Practice your control.” Kenma takes a deep breath. “We’ve played them before. They have power but most of their team is new. We have defense and experience. We have the advantage.” 

The team cheers.

Yamamoto nudges Kenma’s side. “Aren’t you forgetting something, _Captain_?” Kenma glares. Yamamoto grins, feral, and holds out his fist. Inuoka and Lev’s eyes light up and Kenma sighs in resignation.

“We’re like the blood in our veins,” Yamamoto says. “We must flow without stopping. Keep the oxygen moving and your mind working.”

“So embarrassing,” Kenma mutters, just to be obstinate. He doesn’t really mind, though, and after the speech is done, the team whoops loudly, hollering and clapping each other's backs as they run out to start the game. 

*

“Good game, Captain,” Kuroo says, with his characteristic smirk. Kenma scowls but leans into his chest anyway, wanting to be close. Kuroo smells like laundry detergent and leather and grass. Not like he did in high school, but still Kuroo. Kenma breathes deep, letting the scent wash over him, and he feels his entire body relaxing.

“Gross, you’re all sweaty,” Kuroo complains, but there’s a laugh in his voice and he wraps his arms around Kenma and squeezes, just as grateful for the reunion as Kenma.

Bokuto jogs over and he treats Kenma to a hard but fond slap on the back and a tug to his ponytail. “Hey hey, Kenma! Maaan, I can’t believe you guys beat us! I told Akaashi he’s gotta step it up. He should do whatever you’re doing, Kenma. I bet you’re a _way_ better captain than this goofy idiot was.” Bokuto jabs a knuckle into Kuroo’s side.

Kuroo ignores him and leans down to press a kiss to Kenma’s hair, and then a softer one to his lips, when Kenma turns his head up insistently. He smiles as he pulls away. “He’s pretty great,” Kuroo says. 

And in a quieter voice adds, “I knew he would be.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fanwork placed 15th overall in MR1 voting.


End file.
